


Something Old, Something New

by chylersilva



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Friendship, Slow Build, Snarky Hawke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3447566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chylersilva/pseuds/chylersilva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since that night. At Aveline and Donnic's wedding, old feelings between Hawke and Fenris are stirred up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wedding Night

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a drabble to unleash some of my post-DA2 feelings and turned into whatever this is. Not beta'd or revised and these muses are new to me so be gentle. Aaliya is my Hawke's name, so that is what I will be using in the fic.

It was the first time he’d seen her truly smiling in a very long while. Sure, she was never short on the quips that appeared to make light of their escapades, but he could see beyond the smirk she constructed so carefully. Today, however, there was no such facade. Just Hawke, unbridled and positively smug as she stole her friend from her new husband for a dance. The wedding of Aveline Vallen and Donnic Hendyr, it was quite the celebration. Fenris remembered his brow furrowing when he’d received the invitation. He’d never been invited to any occasion like this in his life. A slave did not attend celebrations. A slave did not have any friends to even do such inviting. But here he was, sitting in the darkest corner he could find in such a grand hall. He hadn’t planned on attending. It would have been easier to simply ignore the invitation. He’d been certain no one would miss him. But to his surprise, the betrothed woman had shown up at the deteriorating mansion he’d settled into and insisted he go. It probably was not terribly smart to piss off the guard captain of Kirkwall, so he conceded, telling himself it would be good to be there in case trouble should arise while his other companions are too sloshed to wield weapons.

The full truth of what it meant to attend such a personal event did not strike him until later. Every step he took further into these companions’ lives, the harder it would be when the day came to leave. The idea that he could find a permanent place among friends was a concept too foreign for him to consider, even as his attempts to maintain distance grew more in vain. He watched them all in vague amusement. Varric was downing drinks faster than the server could replace them. No doubt he’d soon have a crowd of guests enraptured with his newest tale of questionable plausibility. Isabela was chatting up her latest conquest, a simple-minded guard who likely had no idea what he was in for. But it wasn’t long before Fenris found his mind wandering back to Hawke and his gaze was eager to follow. She was short of breath, but the smile hadn’t faded as she continued to dance amongst the rowdy crowd. She couldn’t exactly be called graceful as she moved about, but there was something to her rhythm that kept his eyes glued to the woman. It was similar to how she moved in battle, quick and with an ease she’d no doubt spent years developing. But when they were being attacked by a group of raiders in the underbelly of Darktown there were more pressing matters than watching their leader fight. 

He had no right to look at her this way, he knew. He’d thrown away the privilege to admire her beauty, charm, the sensuality that flowed unwittingly from her movements when he’d left her that night years ago. It seemed almost like another lifetime now, but that the same time he could remember her touch like it happened yesterday. He didn’t want to remember. Remembering hurt more than the lyrium flowing under his skin, but he could never forget. But he was determined not to let his feelings, whatever they were, take hold of him. 

Just then, as though the Maker himself had been listening to his thoughts and waiting for the opportunity to play a cruel joke, Hawke turned to look in his direction. He tried to pull his gaze away before their eyes could meet, but it was too late. He saw her smile falter upon seeing him and felt a wave of shame spread over him. His hand gripped the drink he’d been nursing for the better part of an hour now, not sure if he was hoping she would or wouldn’t approach. It didn’t matter which, because there she was stepping away from the spotlight towards his comfortably secluded table. He couldn’t help but to notice that the dance still hadn’t left her step as she moved closer. He vaguely wondered if he could sink into his seat and never be seen again. But then he wouldn’t have gotten to see up close the way her dress for the evening hung so perfectly around her frame, all sparkling gold and deep red. He realized this was the first time he’d ever seen her dressed up like this, a vision truly befitting a lady of her standing. Not that he wouldn’t appreciate her in anything she wore. She could wear an empty elfroot sack and still be the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He felt the same of her in nothing at all, but that wasn’t a part of his memory he was willing to explore right now. Before he could berate himself for even indulging in the thought, her voice rang out above the hum of the room.

“Enjoying the party as always, I see.” She had her smirk back in place by now, but his head wasn’t clear enough to tell if it was real. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to dance. I may be mad but I don’t have a death wish just yet.”

He gave a low chuckle in response to that, finger tapping absently on the glass in his hand. “Do not be concerned with me. You seem to be enjoying the night enough for the both of us, no?”

Something in her expression changed at that, and he wondered if he’d already said the wrong thing. “You could at least make an effort, you know. Talk to someone, anyone, for a bit. Aveline didn’t invite you here to guard the empty tables. There are literally dozens of guards here as it is.”

“I believe I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”

“Andraste’s tits, why do I bother?” But she was laughing, despite herself. With a shake of the head she fell into the seat next to him. Oh, no. She was close now, far too close. He could see the freckles dusted across her face and the small scar along her jaw that she’d gotten dueling the arishok. The urge to reach out and trace it was maddening, but fortunately she was quick to dash those thoughts as her nimble hand reached over to swipe the drink from his hand. “Hey, if you’re not going to finish it…”

He shrugged. In the face of everything they’d gone through together, all the pain he kept locked up in his chest, she still had the ability to make him forget any of it existed with a soft laugh. It was both terrifying and delightful. The realization hit him hard in that moment. When they were on the move, it was easy to hide behind the mission, the latest battle. Here he felt horribly exposed. The last time he’d felt like this was that night. He hadn’t intended a repeat, but then why did he find himself leaning towards her instead of away? He should say something, probably. No, definitely, because she was giving him that look he knew well right now and it only spelled trouble.  
“What goes on in there?” He was too slow yet again as she questioned him, brow raised.

“In where?” The corner of his mouth twitched, resisting a smirk to battle hers.

“In Meredith’s knickers, where do you think? You know what I mean!” Before he could respond, she dropped her voice to continue. “Fenris. You never talk to me anymore. Maybe it’s the drink talking but Maker, I miss you, okay?”

Maybe it was the drink talking. Surely it had to be. Or maybe, just maybe she really missed him as much as he missed her. But what did it mean?

“I…” He let out a long breath, hardly aware of how long he’d been holding it in. 

“Hawke!” A voice called out from the crowd, throwing them both back into reality before he could do anything he would later regret. It was Donnic, approaching them both with a broad smile. “There you are. Aveline is looking for you. Best not keep the captain waiting.” He beckoned for her to follow him.

“Yes yes, I’ll be right there.” The champion brought a hand to her forehead for a moment, before glancing back at Fenris. “We’ll talk again later, yeah? Go get yourself another drink, maybe you’ll make a friend along the way.” At first he felt a wave of relief, but it was followed promptly by a feeling he couldn’t quite place. He watched as she stood to walk away, but her steps no longer followed any rhythm he could see.


	2. The Day After

“Varric, put me down!” The sight would have been a ridiculous one to any onlooking stranger, a dwarf lifting a woman twice his height. But they were among familiar company and no one in the room was surprised when they pair of friends both toppled over. 

“I told you I could do it, Hawke! Do I ever lie?” 

She scoffed. “I’d be terribly concerned for your health if you ever stopped lying, you strong, strapping man. Happy?”

The new husband and wife had taken off hours ago, but Aaliya hadn’t wanted the night to end. Her eyes shot a glance towards a table in the back of the room. It was unoccupied, save an empty glass that sat in front of the chair she’d warmed earlier. He undoubtedly left long ago. It was quite a surprise to her that he actually came at all. Aveline was even more powerful than she’d known, it seemed.

Turning attention back to the dwarf next to her, she pulled her hair down from the bun that was barely keeping together after all the night’s festivities. “Varric, do you think I’m a catch?” 

“Honey, you’re the catch, but sadly as I’ve told you I remain spoken for.” Eyes rolling, she shoved hard him in the shoulder. Her scrunched up into a pouty expression she was glad her other companions weren’t there to witness. Exactly how much drink had she downed tonight? She couldn’t be sure. 

“Sod off with your weapon fetish, you know what I mean,” she paused, mind registering that this was the second time she’d said those words that night. She shook her head of the thought, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Is this about the elf?” When she opened her mouth in surprise her friend only laughed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your little talk earlier, never mind how he was giving you the lookover all night.”

“He was no- do you really think he was?” She tilted her head as though thoughtful, but not a coherent thought was to be found in her mead muddled mind. She saw the dwarf look at her carefully, no doubt thinking this would make for a humorous interlude in one of his tall tales. 

“Damn Hawke, you in that deep? I don’t know Chuckles, I still can’t figure that one out. I mean, dark and brooding is great material, real killer with the ladies, but I hadn’t pegged you the type.”

“You’re incorrigible, you know that right? Just make sure you get my stunning good looks right when you put this one to pen. Don’t skimp on the naughty parts either. Fen will pitch a fit, but we know that’s hardly new.”

“You always did like a good battle, friend. Good to know that extends to behind closed doors.” His expression was smug and all too familiar to the champion, but it was getting to that point in the night of festivities when her eyelids started to feel very heavy. All those snarky comebacks that usually slipped from her lips with ease seemed quite a struggle. The last thing she remembered was mumbling something about guarding tables before everything went fuzzy. 

She awoke the next morning, somehow in her bed. Even more of a miracle, her head actually didn’t feel like it would fly into the fade at any moment. She supposed Anders was likely to thank for that. He had a knack for small kindnesses when he felt like it. She made a mental note not to mention that part if she happened to run into her angry elf. No, not hers. Not anymore. But was he ever? She sometimes wondered if she’d conjured up the entire night with him years ago, but she was no mage and the memory was too vivid. 

What had he been about to say when they were interrupted? Undoubtedly something facetious she would enjoy despite herself. The rogue decided she needed to take a walk. A simple stroll through Hightown would clear her mind and probably her coin purse with all the merchants that had been popping up lately. Once dressed and fed, she led her legs lead the way down the familiar paths. She didn’t know why she was surprised when they brought her to the rundown mansion she found herself facing. Well, better to get this over with sooner rather than later. Given their history of dragging out the inevitable, she was certain their conversation from the night before would never reach a conclusion otherwise. If nothing else, they seemed to be mutually skilled in the art of avoidance. A match made in uncomfortable silence. This is what she braced herself for as she knocked on the door. She did have a key in case of urgent situation, but she rather hoped this encounter wouldn’t qualify as disaster.

“Fenris, it’s me.” Open the door, she found herself chanting inwardly. She was about to turn around when she heard the click of the lock being undone. A second later and there he was standing in front of her, honestly looking a bit as though he’d rather be run over by a pack of halla. 

“Hawke…is something wrong?” No, nothing wrong at all, aside from all the feelings swirling around in her head and how likely this was about to get awkward. 

“No, nothing wrong. I mean, other than the usual heavy burdens of a champion, you know. I just thought- can I come in? I’d like to talk.”

Wordlessly, he made way for her to walk inside and shut the door behind them. He motioned for her to take a seat in the nearby chair while he moved towards the dusty couch. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” Was he blissfully ignorant or just stubborn? She wondered.

“I wanted…” She let out a long sigh, hand reaching up to squeeze the bridge of her nose before dropping back down to fidget in her lap. “Maker, I should be beyond this shouldn’t I? Look, I know we’ve fallen into this cycle of pretending- no, not pretending, that’s not the right word. Shit. All I want is for us to be friends again, Fenris. And I know what you’re going to say,” she paused before beginning a terrible impersonation of his voice. “‘We are friends, Hawke,’ now leave me to my…whatever it is you do in here all day.” She slumped down in her seat with a huff. Well, no one could accuse her of being too smooth, at least. 

It was quiet for some time in the room as her companion seemed in no rush to form a response. “Hawke- Aaliya. You’ve been there when there was no one else, supported me when I hardly do anything to deserve it.” He seemed very tired, she noticed, as he spoke, but not hostile in any way. “We may not always agree. Sometimes we may not talk. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not much for idle conversation. Regardless of anything that happens, any of my mistakes…I will always consider you a friend. And I will always be glad to stay at your side. I thought you knew this.” His answer only left her with a thousand more questions she wouldn’t dare voice. Instead, she found herself laughing. It was throaty and unrestrained, a response to the immense relief she suddenly felt knowing that perhaps this had settled the matter once and for all. She could accept friendship, right? From someone who’d been through what he had, it was a grand gesture to give anything at all. What was past would just have to stay there, whether or not her emotions wanted to comply.

“Right. Thank you, Fenris. I feel the same way.” She thought of little else for the remaining hours of the day.


End file.
